It might sound crazy, but I think there is definitely room for realistic and humorous cards for parents who've lost children. In a situation where no one really knows what to say, it's nice to let a card do the talking.

Mother's Day is difficult for those of us who have lost our mothers, either through death, estrangement, or other reasons. It's difficult for those who deal with infertility and Mother's Day is just a reminder of what we don't have. It's difficult for those who have lost children and it's a day that reminds us we used to have.

Christians. There are some things we're good at. These things are ideas that most Christians agree on, at least in theory, and get right at least some of the time. For example, caring about those in need, working hard, and treating others as you want to be treated.

One of my father's greatest desires was always to travel and see the world, and yet he could never master his fear of the unknown. Many of the qualities that make travel one of the great loves of my life were the very things that filled him with dread. I find myself wondering if I travel so much as a direct rebellion against his own fears and worries?

When someone asked me why I wasn't feeling well, I told them I'd lost our first child. When an old friend asked me about the pregnancy that I'd announced so early, I told her it ended in miscarriage. And the most amazing thing happened -- the world didn't end.

While we waited for the medicine to take effect, we held her paws and stroked her head and speculated on what Mishka's heaven would look like -- a beautiful park with her old friend Abby waiting for her, unlimited belly rubs, and Christmas trees with untended boxes of candy and defrosting steaks just waiting for her to steal.

The important lesson for today -- the most important lesson of my existence -- is that given time, even the most unimaginable loss can be an avenue to a new life. Six years later, I am well into the journey down that path.

The Internet is a place, just as real as your favorite coffee shop or local bar, where we can stop by and catch up with friends as often or infrequently as we want. We can use social media to make arrangements to meet in real life, or simply hang out online. Life can be lonely, but the way we connect with people is evolving.

I can't say I wouldn't pick abundance over paucity, given the choice. A Buddha might. I'm just an ordinary person who still likes to eat bacon. But in my experience, it's definitely been true that happiness tastes better when it isn't what's always in the bowl.

As I looked at the photos, I realized that I found myself unable to relate to any of the adoptees who were searching for answers. They had clues and tidbits of information they could use to help locate their birth parents. If I were to create a poster, it would be empty.

Grief is not sadness. I get sad when I break a nail, or when the shoe I want is not available in my size. I get sad when someone calls my son a wimp. But this feels different. Grief is so much more complex.

My father died when I was 16. I do not know what he would have thought of my prom gown, or if he would have handed me his handkerchief on my wedding day. I do not know if my mother would have approved of my college major or how I handled the stressors of my first job.

So how do I or anyone else who has had a loss get through the holidays? A simple way is to bake or cook something that your loved one made. In fact, Susan's Cincinnati family held a carrot cake bake-off on Thanksgiving in her memory. Everyone put on blindfolds as they taste-tested Susan's cake and other carrot cakes -- one from a renowned bakery. While Susan's cake didn't win, the activity certainly kept her memory alive!

The amazing thing about childhood is that it is the very antithesis of appropriate. Kids don't pause to consider what's right or fair or even what's needed. They just breathe in each moment of life and live it to its fullest.

My childhood family may have fallen apart, but my mother is still here. She's in me, in my children. I still won't make that fancy lonely Thanksgiving feast like my mother did, but they're going to know how important they are.

We live in a world of constant gain and loss, and the common denominator is always love. Love is who we are, love is where we are from and love is how we are all connected. Tap into it and know that the moment when you do, your loved one is doing the same.